


thick skin and an elastic heart

by shortitude



Series: elastic hearts [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, established something-like-a-relationship, part of a series, slow build & long burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortitude/pseuds/shortitude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles that fit into the <i>elastic hearts</i> universe, with no specific timestamp on them, and varying ratings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thick skin and an elastic heart

**Author's Note:**

> this one's for **semele**. prompt was 'appreciation'. it's short but it fits this verse the best.

_You’re amazing,_  he says, wordlessly, fingertips pressing down the knobs of her spine as he follows the length of it with his hand. He doesn’t say the words, but she doesn’t need him too. This close to falling asleep under the soft touch of his hands, she wants him quiet, not drawing her attention to how loved she actually is. (Still is.) That would knock sleep right out of her. 

 _I like your hands_ , is what he doesn’t say when he lets his fingertips tickle the inside of her palms to the point where she closes them into fists with a grunt. His laugh is a soft huff that barely reaches her skin from where he’s sitting, and her groan is muffled against the pillow she shoves her face against. 

 _We owe you three quarters of our survival_ , is what she feels he says when he digs his thumbs into the knots of tension in her back, easing them gently out. Like he’s ironing out the wrinkles that make her a fury, in the safe environment of her tent. She pretends not to hear it, but her skin does; goosebumps follow his hands up her back, her body remembering how alive it is before her brain follows. 

 _I owe you half my sanity_ , is hidden in the quiet kiss he presses to the back of her head. Her eyes tear up, and she squeezes them shut and hides her face and tries to stay loose and relaxed. _And all my heart_ , says the kiss to the nape of her neck, his fingers pushing the hair pulled loose from her ponytail up gently. 

“If you want me to stop, just say so,” he says, drawing back and sitting gingerly against her legs. (She only feels half of it.) (She feels all of it.) 

“Don’t,” she replies, finally, muffled by the pillow, and sighs and sinks into the bed when he brings his hands down on her. He touches her like it’s the first good thing he’s done with his hands in months, and she lets him get away with pretending that it doesn’t mean everything. 


End file.
